


Fathoms Below

by mwestbelle



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Fish genitals, M/M, Mermaids, Minor Character Death, Sirens, Weirdness, merfolk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:57:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/pseuds/mwestbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard kills his first sailor when the moon is full.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fathoms Below

**Author's Note:**

> Written for trope_bingo 2013, "au: were/vamp/supernatural." I chose merfolk!
> 
> WARNINGS: I don't even know you guys, it's really weird. Uh, death of a minor character (at the hands of a mermaid), weird sex, implications that a character is underage/sexually immature by his species standards, weird fish genitals (you know you're a writer when you're googling "fish vaginas?" on a Sunday evening)

Gerard kills his first sailor while the moon is full. There are conflicting stories on whether it's easier to kill in the moonlight or when the sky is dark. Some say that the moon makes men mad, makes them long for their wives and their beds, makes it easy for them to topple over the railing into the deep. Others say that the darkness is the key; the darkness is what men fear, and in the dark a pretty voice could so easily belong to the pretty girl they had on the shore. Gerard doesn't know if he was lucky or if he was clever, but the moon hangs in the sky, white and silent like a sand dollar sits in the sand, when he drags his first kill out of the depths, leaving him on a rocky shoal to rot.

The sailor is not beautiful. His face is pockmarked, his beard grisly, his nose squashed and lumpy. Gerard thinks that he ought to feel proud or at least different. His school will congratulate him when he returns, clap his shoulder and ask him to sing them the song that lured this man to his death. He knows they will be happy for him, and he cannot bear the idea of seeing their smiles.

He does not return to his school; instead he swims down to a craggy rock not far from the place where water boils.

Bob is broad. Big and thick, with a flowing beard like Neptune himself. He's a strong swimmer, with a tail covered in midnight blue scales, deeper in color than his eyes. Gerard goes to him at the rock, circles him slowly before curling his tail around Bob's, resting his cheek on Bob's scarred chest. He doesn't know where the scars are from (some days Bob says sharks, some days coral, some days harpoons), but the ridges are familiar. He closes his eyes and sighs when Bob cards a hand through his hair.

"I had my first kill," Gerard says. He wants to hear what Bob will say to him, but Bob says nothing. Gerard opens his eyes, looking down at their tails. His own is silvery, with delicate red frilled fins. He's built for attraction, not power. His torso too is pale, slender, with two small pink nipples that serve no purpose. His features are delicate, pretty, his hair black. They resemble the men, as though they were cast in the same mold, but under his skin, Gerard has no more in common with a human man than he does with an octopus. He is more like the octopus, all things considered.

Bob does not resemble a man as strongly as Gerard does. They share a basic shape, but his features, behind the beard, are smoother, only a small ridge where Gerard has a nose, his eyes entirely black and lacking the folds above them that Gerard has - Bob's eyes are covered by transparent lids that move from the side, not the top. His fingers are webbed, and there is a sheen of scales that goes up his sides, from his tail to the underside of his arms. As a bull, he'll never need to go above water, will never be seen by a human. Gerard is a perfect copy of a man from the waist up; he could hardly seduce one otherwise. But his looks aren't just for the men; someday, he'll need to attract a bull to spawn with him.

For most of his class, any bull will do. But Gerard has...preferences. He sighs and rubs his tail against Bob's idly. He might find more pleasure in luring sailors to their deaths, if he thought Bob would be proud of him too.

"Stop it." Bob grunts and his big webbed hand closes over the side of Gerard's tail, just below where it joins his torso. "You're too young for this."

"I'm not." Gerard stops, but he doesn't move away. He peers up at Bob instead, reaches to run his hand over Bob's beard. "I'm old enough to know what I want."

Bob snorts, derisive, and Gerard won't pretend it doesn't sting. He knows he's being silly -- what does he have to offer Bob, with just one kill? -- but it seems unecessarily cruel. He pushes to unwind himself, but Bob slides his hand up to the small of Gerard's back, holding him in place. "You could do better."

Gerard knows that Bob is a loner; most of the bulls travel in a group, much like Gerard has his school. They're boisterous, always showing up and teasing the prettier sirens. Bob isn't like that. He spends most of his time here, it seems; at least, he's always here when Gerard comes looking for him. Bob's hand is heavy, solidly in place, and it sends a startling shiver through Gerard's body when he starts to stroke, gently rubbing his fingers along the join of skin and scales.

"You haven't even laid yet, have you?" Bob's voice is rough, and he sighs when Gerard shakes his head no. "So fucking young. You don't even know what it feels like, wanting."

"I know." Gerard groans softly, and he's feeling it right now, an ache that starts in the core of his tail and goes all the way up to his middle. Just under where Bob's hand is resting. "I...want."

"Do you?" Bob's hand slips a little lower until it presses right over the source of the ache. Gerard squirms, tail flexing against the feeling within. He doesn't know what else he can do; he's never felt it this strongly, and he buries his face back against Bob's chest. He can't help but shift, drawing his tail up, and then Bob's hand is feeling at the base of one of his fins and... _oh_.

Gerard whines and clings to Bob as Bob starts to rub the small white bump there. It's never been so tender before. "Please, Bob, don't stop."

Bob doesn't say anything, but he keeps touching; after a little while he moves his hand away and twines their fins together instead, grinding so much strong muscle over that sweet sensitive bump. Gerard's ache is growing and growing, getting both more painful and more delicious at the same time until he crests and _falls_ , feeling the release like the moment his head breaks the surface of the water and all the droplets rain down around him and everything is different.

He's trembling, a little, mouthing at Bob's flesh, and he feels so strange and slightly pathetic. He feels like he ought to swim away, go back to his school and tell them about his kill and pretend none of this ever happened. But Bob doesn't let him go. He wraps his arms around Gerard's torso, leaving their tails twisted into one silver-blue knot.

"When you're ready," Bob says, his voice soft and low, "I'll do it. If you still want me to."

"Of course I will," Gerard mumbles into his chest. He places a careful kiss on one of Bob's more ragged scars and closes his eyes. He feels different now.


End file.
